


Quarantine

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Challenge: Sport Anime Shipping Olympics | SASO 2016, Graphic Depictions of Illness, M/M, epidemic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 15:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7807054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an epidemic and Suga wants to find the cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> This is a remix of team Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi's fic Antibodies for SASO MR1. You can find it [here](http://saso2016-r1.dreamwidth.org/3971.html?posted=1&view=123267#cmt123267)

“You should get some rest. We can make him comfortable, but there’s nothing more you can do.” 

Sugawara wore a mask that covered most of his face except for his eyes, which narrowed as he stared down at the person lying in the hospital bed. He didn’t care if the doctor next to him heard or not. The words forced themselves out all the same. 

“That’s not enough.” 

*

Quarantine. That favorite word used by every news organization. Suga came home from work after each shift relieved that he’d been able to escape, that his hospital hadn’t yet been hit. Oikawa would be sitting in the living room, eyes glued to the television, laptop resting open on his legs. 

He was waiting for the quarantine, too. 

Suga dipped low and gave Oikawa a kiss. Oikawa’s nose wrinkled and he murmured, “you smell like bleach,” but when Suga tried to pull away, Oikawa’s hand caught him under his chin and kept him close. “But I don’t mind.” He grinned and kissed Suga again. 

Suga changed and like he did every time he came home, he flopped onto the couch, exhausted. Oikawa tried not to show just how much he was observing Suga’s movements, but Suga could feel Oikawa’s eyes on him, sweeping up and down his body, looking for possible signs of illness. 

“You worked later today,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah,” Suga sighed. “Research, mostly. Picking up the slack from other hospitals. We haven’t gotten any overflow patients yet.” He knew that was what Oikawa wanted to hear. 

This particular outbreak had hit Tokyo hard, but there were enough hospitals that some of them were being used to treat patients without this super virus, as well as for researching a cure, while others were exclusively for holding infected patients. Those hospitals were quarantined, meaning that no workers or patients could leave. Until when, no one knew. Until they all died? Or until the disease got cured? 

Tokyo had become almost quiet. There were less people on the street, public transportation had stopped running, most companies had stopped asking people to come into work, and those who wanted to keep up some semblance of normal life went out with masks. Oikawa had a few decorated masks that he kept in his room for that purpose, though Suga tried to minimize how much Oikawa needed to leave their apartment. He would buy groceries on the way home, coffee, take-out dinners. Oikawa worked in advertising, and he could do that from home. But Oikawa wasn’t the sort of person who enjoyed being cooped up. 

“So,” he said, as Suga moved close to him and rested his head on Oikawa’s chest, “How’s the research going?” 

“Not enough people for how many tests we have to run,” Suga said. Oikawa threaded his fingers through Suga’s hair, and Suga felt like he was going to fall asleep. “A few of our research staff got pulled away to other hospitals along with some nurses.” 

“But they won’t pull you, will they?” Oikawa’s voice rose a little. 

“They shouldn’t,” Suga said. “Since I was part of the research department beforehand. Blood is my specialty, after all!” 

“They need you.” Oikawa continued carding his fingers through Suga’s hair for a bit, and then took a sharp breath. “You know, Iwa-chan invited me to play a game tomorrow.” 

Suga went stiff and pulled away from Oikawa to look at his face. Oikawa gave nothing away. “Why? Where?” 

“Just playing around. We both hate doing nothing. It’s a high school gym, Bokuto has a key, it should be clean, and it’ll just be a quick game.” 

“A quick game,” Suga repeated, mouth going dry. Gyms weren’t clean. They were cesspits of germs. But anyone afflicted with the virus probably wouldn’t have been going to the high school gym anyway. He didn’t want to seem unreasonable, but the fear was there all the same. 

Oikawa nodded. Suga got the sense that he was worried, too, but he also didn’t want fear of this virus to stop him from doing what he wanted. It was hard to blame him. 

“O-okay,” Suga said. “Just be careful.” 

Oikawa smiled. “I’m nothing if not careful, Koushi!” He pressed a quick kiss to Suga’s lips. “Don’t worry about me.” 

Suga tried to smile. He did worry. He worried so much it hurt. He knew Oikawa worried about him too, and probably had more of a reason to be concerned. Suga was on the front lines of this epidemic, and Oikawa was off to the side. 

“I’ll try not to,” he said. 

Oikawa stood up, pulling Suga with him. “Bed,” he ordered. “You look exhausted.” Suga felt exhausted. 

“Only if you come with me.” 

*

Suga realized that he was counting the mornings. 

Every morning that he woke up with Oikawa by his side (or night, because his schedule had become inconsistent), he felt grateful. Another day that they had survived this epidemic with as little taken from them as possible.

Every morning Suga struggled to leave his bed. Sometimes he would wake up with his arms wrapped around Oikawa, and other times with his head resting on Oikawa’s chest.

He didn’t want to leave. 

But he got dressed, watching as Oikawa burrowed deeper into the blankets and murmured nonsense (“Five more minutes Koushi”). He gave Oikawa a goodbye kiss and then was out the door. 

There was a subdued air in the hospital when he arrived. He found the receptionist, Kenma, chewing nervously on a pencil and staring at his computer screen. He didn’t even look up when Suga passed. 

Daichi wasn’t in his office, but Kuroo was in his, typing away on his computer. Suga closed the door behind him and Kuroo looked up. He didn’t give Suga his normal grin. 

“We’ve started accepting patients.” 

Suga felt his stomach drop. “What?” 

“The other hospitals are overflowing,” Kuroo said, “and to be honest, the best way to research a cure is to actually have subjects to research on. We’re not quarantined quite yet, and we’re only accepting a few patients as of now, but those patients will be…” He searched for the proper word and settled on, “guinea pigs.” 

Suga flinched. “That isn’t legal, Kuroo.” 

“The laws have been temporarily changed,” Kuroo said, glancing back at his screen. “We don’t have time to move from animals to humans. Not with how many are dying. It’s a ghost town outside. I mean, you might not have noticed considering how much time you spend here, but it’s gotten really bad.” 

“Like you spend any less time here,” Suga muttered. 

“We’re both about to live here, pretty much,” Kuroo said. “Give it a day or two. I’m organizing our staff, seeing how we can make everything run more efficiently as a quarantined facility.” 

Suga stared at him. 

“Just do what you normally do,” Kuroo told him. “I’ll keep you updated.” 

It seemed impossible, but Suga found himself heading to the lab, where blood samples and Daichi waited for him. Daichi hadn’t been keeping quite as many hours as Suga had because his boyfriend, Asahi, had a hard time being alone. But now Daichi would have to leave him for an undetermined amount of time. The displeasure was clear in Daichi’s face when Suga got there. 

“You heard?” he asked. Suga nodded. “I don’t really know what to do. On the one hand, I want to put everything into a cure. But on the other, if this is it,” he swallowed, “I don’t want to have spent all of my time in a lab.” He shook the vial of blood he was holding. The red liquid sloshing around made Suga feel nauseous. 

“The faster we fix this, the faster we can get out of here, right?” Suga asked. “We just have to find it. We have to find the cure.” 

“Easier said than done,” Daichi said, but he squared his shoulders. “You’re right, though. That’s what we need to do.” 

So they worked. Suga lost track of time as they poured over data and took photographs of tiny slides under microscopes and tested various samples. His head pounded and his body felt heavy, likely from lack of sleep, but he continued until Kuroo burst into the lab and told them to go home. 

Suga trudged back to the apartment through dark and empty streets, mask secured firmly over his face. As he unlocked the door, he thought about how it must have been hours since Oikawa’s volleyball game. He wondered how it went, if they’d managed to get enough people for a full game. If it had been fun. If it had stopped Oikawa from worrying over everything for at least a little bit of time. 

He opened the door and stepped inside. The lights and TV were off, uncharacteristic even though it was past 2am. Suga closed the door behind him, heart thudding in his chest as he made his way to the bedroom. 

The lights were off but there was a person-shaped lump underneath the blanket. Oikawa had fallen asleep. Maybe he’d finally reached his limit of being able to stay up late waiting. Suga stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. 

He nearly jumped out again when he made contact with Oikawa’s sweaty, burning hot skin. “Tooru,” he breathed. 

Oikawa groaned and threw his arm over his face. “Five more minutes, Koushi.” 

Suga moved Oikawa’s arm and brushed his hand against Oikawa’s forehead, pushing his sweat-soaked hair back. 

“How long?” he asked. 

“Wha-” Oikawa turned his head away. 

“How. Long.” 

“Dinner time,” Oikawa croaked. He turned and opened his eyes, glassy with fever, and stared at Suga. “I’m screwed, right?”

“No,” Suga said, scrambling out of bed. “You’re not.” He pulled on his clothes, flicked on the light, and turned as he buttoned up his shirt to see Oikawa lying there, pale and wide-eyed staring back at him. Scared. 

“You’re not,” Suga repeated. “We’re going to the hospital.” 

*

“You need to sleep.” 

Oikawa had been in the hospital for two days, steadily getting worse. A mask over his face delivered oxygen but didn’t stop him from coughing up blood. That blood, they used in their samples. Anything that came out of Oikawa was being used as a sample. Suga shook as he prepared yet another slide. 

“I’m fine, Daichi,” he said through gritted teeth. He hadn’t slept since they brought Oikawa in. Sleep was time wasted. Sleep was not useful. Sleep wouldn’t help Oikawa survive this. 

“Suga.” Daichi stopped what he was doing to place his hand on Suga’s arm. “Look at me.” 

Suga didn’t want to look at him, but he forced his eyes away from the slide to Daichi’s face. Daichi had warm brown eyes. They were so familiar, so comforting normally. They’d known each other since childhood and not once did Suga refuse Daichi’s comfort. 

But now he wanted to. 

“Not sleeping won’t help him,” Daichi said. “He worries about you. I’m worried about you. You look like crap. You’re going to start making mistakes. You need to rest so you can do your job.” 

Suga felt like his jaw was stuck. He swallowed. Daichi was right. 

“I’ll wake you up if I need you,” Daichi continued, “so why don’t you-”

“What if he dies while I’m asleep?” Suga blurted out. 

Daichi gave him a sad smile. “He won’t. If something happens, I’ll let you know.” 

He placed his hand against Suga’s back and pushed him into an adjacent room that they’d started using for sleep. Suga sat down on one of the sofas. Daichi tossed a blanket onto his lap. 

“We’re close,” he said. “I’m not letting this get away from us. We’re not going to lose.” 

Suga nodded and watched Daichi retreat back into the lab. He lay down, curling in on himself and closing his eyes. 

It shouldn’t have been easy to fall asleep, but it was. 

*

“Wake up.” 

Suga groaned. Someone was shaking his shoulder. “Knock it out, Tooru,” he murmured without any bite. 

“Suga.” 

Suga’s eyes snapped open. Daichi knelt in front of him. 

“What happened?” he asked, sitting up too fast. The room spun. He didn’t care. He focused on Daichi’s face, clutching the blankets in his hands as he prepared for the worst. “How long was I out? Why didn’t you wake me up sooner? What’s going on?” 

“Calm down,” Daichi said, his voice sharp. “Everything is fine. Everything is the same, actually, except I thought you’d want to wake up by now. And I have some markers that I’ve isolated in the blood from the virus, but I don’t know quite how to attack them and break them. That’s what I need you for.” 

“Oh.” Suga took a deep breath. Daichi didn’t know as much about blood and medicine as Suga did, because Daichi had been a general physician. He hadn’t even been working in a hospital until recently. 

“Oh,” Daichi teased, smiling. “Come on. Get some breakfast and we’ll get started.” 

Suga felt dazed as he went into the shared staff restroom and washed his face, brushed his teeth, and made himself look like he hadn’t slept on a couch. He didn’t feel hungry, so he opted for coffee, and then for a visit to Oikawa’s room. 

All of their virus patients had been put in isolation, although shortly before the quarantine any other patients had been moved to a different hospital. Still, precautions had to be taken. He had to cover his entire body to see Oikawa. The only bits of him Oikawa would be able to see were his hair and eyes. 

Oikawa was awake, a breathing mask fitted over his nose and mouth. He blinked up at Suga, dazed. 

“Koushi?” 

“How are you feeling?” Suga asked, his hands twitching with the urge to just touch Oikawa. 

“Like crap.” Oikawa laughed, and then coughed. His expression pinched with pain. “How’s the lab?” 

“We’re making progress,” Suga said. “We’re working as fast as we can.” 

Oikawa nodded. He took a shuddering breath and then asked, “How are _you_?” 

“I’m fine,” Suga said, even though the words felt wrong. How could he be fine when Oikawa was dying? His stomach twisted. “I’m just trying to find a cure faster so that we can get back to our lives.” 

“I wonder if the others got sick,” Oikawa murmured. He sounded breathless. “Iwa-chan. Bokuto. Matt-sun...” He started coughing again and it took all of Suga’s willpower not to grab his hand. 

“Don’t strain yourself,” he pleaded. “I can find all of that out soon enough. Don’t worry. Once we get this cure, everything will be fine.” 

Oikawa tilted his head and frowned at him. “You’re putting too much on yourself.” 

“This is my job.” 

“No, I mean,” Oikawa coughed, then continued, “There’s other hospitals in the country and around the world looking for this cure, right?” 

Suga nodded, even as he thought, _but they’re not working fast enough_. 

“So, you know, it’s not just you,” Oikawa took another shuddering breath. “You’re doing your best but...be careful. Promise?” 

Suga nodded. “I promise.” 

“Good.” 

He’d spent too long there. He was shaking. Oikawa’s breaths were too uneven now. Suga muttered a quick, “I love you,” and turned around, rushing out of the room. 

He barely made it to the bathroom before he was throwing up, harsh retches tearing through his body. The retches became sobs, and he collapsed in front of the toilet, shaking and gripping the porcelain as hard as he would have gripped Oikawa’s hand if he could. 

How long had he been asleep? How much time was he wasting here in the bathroom? How much time did Oikawa have left? 

Another wave of nausea had him heaving over the toilet again. When he was done, he opened his eyes, one hand reaching to flush the mess away. But he stopped. 

There was blood. 

*

A note slipped under the door, joining a pile of other slips of paper. On the other side, Daichi had long since given up on begging. 

Suga knew that he had the virus. The symptoms checked out. He started using his own blood to test things, just so he wouldn’t have to expose Daichi. He knew that if he stepped out of the lab, he would be taken into isolation. He wouldn’t be able to do anything. He wouldn’t be able to find a cure and save Oikawa. 

The whole thing would have fallen on Daichi’s shoulders, and maybe Kuroo. But Kuroo was in charge of patient care, and research wasn’t either of their strong suits. Suga had the most knowledge of blood, viruses, and research techniques. They couldn’t afford to lose him. _Oikawa_ couldn’t afford to lose him. 

Perhaps Daichi had gone off to one of the hospital’s other labs to keep working. Maybe they’d written Suga off as a lost cause. It didn’t matter. As long as he could keep working, nothing mattered. 

He used what medicine he had in the labs to ward off the most debilitating of the symptoms so that he could keep working. Time ceased to exist for him. The only thing that mattered was microscoping images that told him how the virus behaved in various situations. His hands shook and his vision blurred. He couldn’t keep anything down. His very bones hurt and his lungs burned. 

No matter how bad he was, Oikawa had to be worse. 

Bit by bit, the virus broke apart under his treatments, until finally he obliterated it. Finally, he had something that worked. He wrote everything he’d done down, typed it onto the computer and sent the document to Kuroo’s and Daichi’s email. He prepared a single dosage, the only amount he could manage after so much testing, into a syringe. It would hopefully be enough to weaken the virus and have the immune system finish the job. 

He opened the door to the lab, finally. No one was there. Suga walked uninterrupted until he reached the patient area, where Kuroo, fully in scrubs, rushed towards him. 

“Cure,” Suga croaked. “I have it.” 

“Suga, let me--” 

“I’m giving it to him,” Suga snapped, brandishing the syringe. 

Kuroo moved forward, but Suga rushed into the room. 

Oikawa had been put on a ventilator. Blood stained his pillow. Bruises stained his skin. He looked fragile, which was not something Suga would ever have associated with Oikawa. Even at his most vulnerable, Oikawa was strong. 

He moved to the edge of the bed and took Oikawa’s hand in his own. He squeezed and Oikawa opened his eyes. 

“I love you, Tooru,” Suga murmured, “and I’m going to make you better.” 

Oikawa’s lips moved, but he couldn’t make a sound past the ventilator. Suga reached for Oikawa’s arm, but before he could find a suitable injection site, someone grabbed him and pulled him back. 

Suga struggled against the other person, but his chest felt tight and his head spun. He coughed, something wet coating his lips, and someone twisted his wrist so that his hand released the syringe. 

He tried to spin around and grab the person or the syringe but his vision began to swim and turn black at the edges. For a moment, the other person let up their grip. Suga spun around and everything went sideways. 

He blacked out. 

*

Oikawa Tooru woke up from a two week long coma alone. 

He felt weak, bone tired, confused about every single thing. He recognized his room as an isolation room, with glass partitions separating his space from the rest of the hospital. He could see into other rooms. Other beds. Machinery hissed around him. He remembered having a tube in his throat before, but he didn’t have one now. 

He wanted Suga. 

He remembered, hazily, the last time he’d been awake. Suga had hovered over his bed looking half dead, dark bruises under his eyes, skin chalk white and lips chapped. His cheekbones looked too sharp. But he was smiling. 

Oikawa tried to sit up, but his muscles protested. He caught movement outside and someone fully dressed in scrubs and a facemask came in. He recognized the wild black hair. 

“Kuroo,” he croaked. “Where is he?” 

Kuroo’s eyes were hard above his mask. “He’s alive, but he also got sick and almost died. He thought he found the cure and tried to inject you with it, but it was a delusion brought on by high fever.” 

Oikawa’s eyes burned and his throat started to close. “Is there a cure?” 

“There is,” Kuroo said, “and some of Sugawara’s last bits of work were really helpful in completing the missing pieces that we needed. But he was in no state of mind to put them together with the rest of the research. Sawamura and another doctor from a different hospital took the lead on that. Sugawara’s work did help accelerate the process, though. Otherwise a cure might have come too late for both of you.” 

Oikawa swallowed. “Does he know?” 

Kuroo shook his head. “I don’t really have the heart to tell him. It’s up to you if you want to.” 

Oikawa didn’t know whether he could. But he needed to see Suga. “How is he now?” 

“He might not completely recover, but he’s out of the danger zone.” Kuroo smiled. “No wonder you two go so well together. You’re both stubborn as hell.” 

Oikawa couldn’t control the sob that escaped him. He choked, “I want to see him.” 

Kuroo nodded. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room and returned with a wheelchair, helping Oikawa into it. It was hard going and Oikawa’s body protested every movement, but he didn’t care. He wanted to see Suga now. He needed to see him. To have confirmation that Suga was alive. 

Kuroo wheeled him to another section of the hospital, where more isolation rooms had been set up. Oikawa gasped when he saw Suga in the hospital bed, hardly anything more than skin and bones. He wondered if he looked the same. 

Kuroo wheeled him to the edge of the bed. Oikawa took Suga’s hand and watched the rise and fall of Suga’s chest, shallow but steady. 

“You idiot,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the back of Suga’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

*

When Suga woke up, Oikawa was holding his hand. They’d been placed in a room together at Oikawa’s insistence. 

Oikawa noticed Suga watching him two nights into their recovery together. He didn’t think much of it because he had been watching Suga a lot too. It was like they were both waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong again. Neither of them could be convinced that things would be fine until they walked out of the hospital. 

Then he heard a sob. 

He half-sat up and turned towards Suga. “Shhh, you’ll mess up your breathing,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” Suga choked. “I’m so sorry. I could’ve killed you.” 

“What?” Oikawa felt his heart skip a few beats. He _knew_. 

“There’s no way I had it,” Suga gasped. “I was so stupid and selfish--” 

Oikawa climbed out of his bed and into Suga’s, pulling him into an embrace. “You still accelerated the cure. And you worked so hard. We’re both alive, right?” 

“Right.” Suga seemed to melt into Oikawa’s touch and Oikawa closed his eyes and took in the feeling of finally having Suga as a solid presence against him. 

He fell asleep in Suga’s bed that night, the two of them curled into each other. No one moved him. Oikawa would have fought anyone who tried. 

*

Suga breathed hard as he stepped over the threshold of what had once been one of Tokyo’s largest hospitals. A horrible smell hit him, causing him to start coughing, but he clenched his fists and continued forward despite his lightheadedness. Daichi and Kuroo had both told him that he would have breathing problems for life, that his lungs were scarred. He wasn’t sure whether his breathlessness now was a result of exertion he hadn’t attempted since before he got sick, or of the sickening environment. 

There were dead people in every room. The virus had swept through several hospitals before a cure had been mass-produced, and Suga could see the aftermath clearly. He’d been tasked, along with other medical professionals “immune” to the disease (people who had contracted it and lived) to go into these places searching for signs of life. 

There were none. Every room Suga went into had a body. Some of them were on the floor, some collapsed against the walls of the isolation rooms. Blood had long dried on most of the surfaces in dark stains. The only sound was footsteps from the medical team and the hiss of the ventilation system. Every corner he turned, Suga hoped to find some sign of life. He didn’t. 

He exited the building on legs that barely wanted to hold him up, ripping off his mask and lab coat and throwing them both onto the sidewalk. Oikawa stood up from the bench he’d taken over to wait and once he saw Suga’s face, he rushed towards him. 

Suga threw his arms around Oikawa and buried his head in Oikawa’s chest, gasping for air. Oikawa looped an arm around Suga and rubbed circles into his back with his free hand. 

“It’s okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to Suga’s forehead. “We’re safe.” 

“You’re safe,” Suga repeated, his fingers clutching the fabric of Oikawa’s jacket. 

He didn’t want to let go. And for now, he didn’t have to. 


End file.
